Felyp was checking the reports of the battle. The Empire lost more than ten thousand soldiers, and was in a tight spot militarily. The materials gathered from the minions were carried to the blacksmiths in Asmil city to be turned into strong weapons, and the loot of the Horde Queen that was leftover from the creation of Mordais, was sold to other nobles.
The completion of Mordais was going to take a while, and Felyp had to use a spare sword he brought from the armoury of the mansion before coming to the battlefield.
The civilian damage was minimal, and a lot of the economic damage was relieved by the loot of the monsters and the Emperor's gifts to the participants.
Felyp glanced outside through the window of his room at Asmil city. He looked at the carts carrying wounded soldiers into the mansion.
Because this city was the Margravate's military center due to it's location at the border with the Ale-An kingdoms at the south where the Werga mountains ended and the Kingdom of Brutea at the east, the Vyolor family had a smaller mansion in this city.
And after battles, the first floor of the mansion was used as a hospital by Felyp's orders. Felyp was called 'a noble who is unusually kind' by most of the Empire because of this.
"Tch... Isn't it normal to do this? They treat me like some saint because of something as simple as this, as if I wasn't the one who ordered them to run into death..."
Maybe because he wasn't shown a battlefield during early childhood, or maybe because he really was too kind of a person, Felyp hated most nobles because of their corruption and arrogance.
Even today, after reading the reports from his agents spread throughout the Empire, he knew just how many nobles were stealing from the money sent to the families of the soldiers who died fighting the monsters.
But he never acted to change things. He was scared to do it. He couldn't imagine how many soldiers woud have to die to achieve a change, and he was scared of being the one to do it because of that.
As a military leader, he had to carry the burden of the dead on his shoulders his whole life, his only solace being his cute kids and his beloved wife's words and warmth. Just thinking about his wife was enough to soften his sour face.
"Sigh~, She made me a useless man without her, heh..."
With a smile that would surprise his soldiers on his face, he stared at the painting of his wife hung on the wall for a minute to heal his mind and then continued on his work.
Knock Knock!
"Come in."
After about an hour of working, the door of his office was knocked and he answered by reflex. The door slowly opened, it was his subordinate and friend Jack, who acted as an emergency mailman for the Margrave because of his vector magic.
"Jack. Did something happen?"
"Yes. I have a letter from the Emperor..."
"And?"
"With the wartime seal on it..."
"What?!"
The wartime seal of the Emperor. It was the wax seal used to mark the most important messages sent from the capitol during wars to prioritize them from everything else so that emergency situations would be dealt with as quick as possible, without being stuck in bureaucracy somewhere.
Felyp quickly took the letter and read it's contents.
"The south again?!"
The Empire was getting ready for war with the Armilat Kingdom in the south.
"Tch... That greedy bastard of Armilat... We just got out of dealing with a colossus and we are low on manpower, what can we even do..."
Felyp wrote a letter back to the Emperor, stating that they had a manpower problem, and the Emperor should deal with the Armilat by diplomacy.
"Jack, send this to the Emperor."
"Yes."
Jack took the letter, and got out of the room. Felyp sank into his chair with a frown on his face. He scratched his head in frustration, and then stood up.
"Arrgghh! Just forget about it... I should play with Noah a bit. He was talking about a friend in the city, right?"
Felyp got out of his room to meet with Noah, who was at the confectionary shop. Felyp, finally finding time to spend with his son after the busy two days, quickly walked towards the shop with a smile on his face.
Just as he was about to call Noah, a boy came out of the kitchen of the shop and walked towards Noah with a smile.
Felyp froze when he saw the kid. The boy was clearly an Ale-An, appearent from his skin colour. His smile reduced a little bit and things he didn't want to think about came back to his mind.
'Oh... We are going to war with the Ale-An's... I hope their friendship can stay the same...'
Even though he was raised in a period of peace, Felyp was twenty nine years old, and the peaceful period made up only slightly more than half of it. And he had seen enough battlefields to make up for the lack of them during his childhood.
He heard many stories from his friends and soldiers. He saw a lot of people's stories happen in front of him. And he knew how war could change friendships, especially in situations like this, where someone made friends with a minority from a country the Empire was waging a war against.
After getting rid of his thoughts, Felyp watched the two boys play from afar. After they seperated, he showed himself to Noah and walked back to the mansion at the city with his son.
*****
The next day, Felyp was in his office, working on the compensation that was to be given to the families of the soldiers who died.
Knock Knock!
"Come in."
Jack opened the door and stepped in.
"Did a reply come?"
"Yes."
Jack handed the letter to Felyp, who opened the letter and started to read it. After a bit of reading, he clenched his fists, crumbling the edge of the paper. His reading became faster with anger, and after finishing it, Felyp slammed his fist into the table.
"HOW! HOW CAN AN EMPEROR ORDER THIS?!"
Felyp burned the letter accidentally in anger with his magic.
In the letter, the Emperor ordered the nobles who were lacking manpower because of the fight with the Horde Queen, to force the Ale-An minorities who were suitable to be soldiers into the battlefield. And extreme punishments to those who didn't comply with the excuse of treason, which were clearly meant to corner Felyp.
Felyp punched his table in anger, causing the wooden table to crack a little bit.